He's My Gerard And I'm His Frank (sequel) {INCOMPLETE}

Wet Paint

{Frank's POV}

"Um Frank... You uh..." He covered a laugh with his hand.

I frowned at him. "What?"

After giggling for a few seconds, he started pointing towards me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. What was so funny?

"You have paint in your hair," He smirked.

I looked up towards the mess that was my hair.

"It's in your fringe."

I grabbed a chunk of it and squinted as I looked through it. When I found a streak of white, I sighed.

"Aw shit."

It wasn't exactly inconspicuous, mixed in amongst the black.

"It kinda looks good," He shrugged, "Edgy."

I grinned at him and held my paintbrush up. "You want to match?"

His eyes widened, "Uh no thanks."

"Aw come on, Gee," I started walking towards him.

He quickly stood up from where he was kneeling on the floor. "Frank, no."

I pointed at him with the paintbrush. "Come here."

A smile spread across his face and he started laughing again. "You stay away from me!"

He started moving quickly to the other side of the room.

I followed him and soon, I was chasing him around the room with the paintbrush.

"Frank!" He laughed, "Stop it!"

"Never!" I managed to catch up with him and practically jumped onto him.

We fell back onto the floor, me landing on Gerard and he moaned in pain.

"Fuck sake, Frank," He narrowed his eyes at me.

I poked him on the cheek with the paintbrush. "You know you love me."

"Unfortunately," He batted the brush away from his face. I had still managed to wipe some of the paint onto his cheek though.

He looked up at the wall behind us, "I think we're done."

"Yeah?" I glanced up as well.

We had been painting all afternoon from three until whatever time it was now. Paint shopping had taken longer than we had expected because there were about two hundred different shades of white to choose from.

I sat up and placed the brush on one of the piles of newspaper.

Gerard sat up too and tried to wipe the paint off of his face but it didn't really work.

"The room looks bigger now," He said, looking at the walls.

I stood up. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"It'll look better when we've unpacked. How much paint do we have left?" Gerard stood up and went over to the bucket to peer in. "We could paint the bathroom with the rest of this," He looked at me.

I shrugged, "Sure."

He went into the kitchen and I followed, stretching a little. Man, since when was painting so tiring?

"Maybe we'll do that tomorrow," He picked his phone up from the breakfast bar, "It's ten to seven."

"Shit, really?"

He nodded and looked up again. "We've painted the living room and our bedroom in nearly four hours. That's pretty good."

I sat down on one of the stools on the other side of the bar.